Just Easy As ABC
by hongkongstar
Summary: Kink Meme fic. Prompt: AxelRoxas, Car Sex. AU, PYT verse.


The thick sweat smoke smell of the rave is too much for Roxas, four hours in and more than half gone on alcohol and endorphins. He paws at Axel's pockets until he finds the car keys, squeezing the curve of his arse as he retrieves them. "Hey, pretty pretty," Axel says, bare chest shining slick in the flashing neon light, glow sticks and UV whistles slung 'round his neck swaying sickly to the beat. His fingers catch on Roxas' throat, the cut of his jaw, before two of them slide into his mouth. Roxas sucks lazily for a moment before biting down, worrying the trapped knuckles with his teeth.

"I'm gonna get some air," he says to the dark-damp hair behind Axel's ear, licks a stripe of salt-sweat off the line of Axel's throat, presses a hand over the tattoo inked dark on Axel's left pectoral, and disappears into the crowd.

Outside the warehouse, the air is chilled and quiet, the thudding of the bass inside rippling across the tarmac and making the puddles shimmer. Roxas takes his time stepping around them as he makes his way through the army of cars and vans, swaying easy as he slides between them. He finds Axel's beat up old Chevy halfway back, close to an exit and sat easy in the dip of shadow between two of the streetlights. He doesn't even fumble with the keys as he unlocks the passenger side door, climbing in and immediately searching around the backseat until he finds Axel's threadbare college hoodie, pulling it on and curling around himself and into the seat.

He wakes up an hour later to Axel's long fingers tapping on the driver side window. Groggily, he pushes his hair out of his face and leans over, popping the door open, and Axel slides in.

"What's up man," he says. "You're missing the party." He's wearing a girl's top, black, long sleeved with the fabric cut loose at the front so it hangs down in folds below his collarbone. The glow sticks and whistles still hang down in the middle of his chest, glowing neon in the shadow of the car.

"You don't have the breasts for that top," Roxas says, and kicks at his thigh lightly.

"Really?" Axel says, looking shocked and pulls the front of the top down low, baring his chest. "I think I have nice tits," he says, and then Roxas is staring at the tattoo over Axel's left nipple, stark black against the pale of his skin. The stylised digit, 8, slung over his skin like it was always meant to be there. His magic 8 tattoo, he calls it, cause it never fails to drive Roxas crazy.

And Roxas, still half drunk and half high and half asleep, gives it up like he was only pretending to have it in the first place. "Fuck it," he says, and slides over the gear stick, over Axel's lap, ends up straddling him, pressed up close between him and the steering wheel and takes that tattoo in his mouth, sucks it into his mouth and imagines he can taste the ink. "Rox," Axel says, one hand curving over Roxas' hip.

"Push the seat back," Roxas says, and starts licking at Axel's nipple as he does, as he frees up a little room at Roxas' back and Axel's knees go down slightly beneath him. Axel's skin tastes of sweat and salt and spilt beer. He leans back enough to pull at the bottom of the top, pulling it up over Axel's head, catching for a moment on the gaudy rave gear looped around his neck, before he gets it free and chucks it somewhere in the backseat.

"That's not mine," Axel says, but then Roxas presses his mouth over his and shuts him up, biting at his lips and tongue.

His hands press at Axel's stomach and chest, working down to his jeans. "Uh, come on, here," Axel says, and tugs at the hoodie Roxas is wearing, pushing a bit harsher when Roxas doesn't shift back to let him pull it off. "Come on," he insists, shoving at Roxas' shoulder and Roxas leans back sharply. His elbow swings back a bit far and they both jump when the horn goes off.

Axel breaks the sudden silence after, laughing and pulling Roxas' hoodie and shirt off before he can shift back and make it difficult again. He presses his hands across Roxas' chest, rubs his thumbs over the hollow of his throat, a nipple, the line and dip of his navel, before sliding around his back and gripping his hips harshly, tugging him forward and tight again.

Roxas manages to shove a hand down between them, rubbing at the curve of Axel's cock through his jeans. Axel groans and thrusts up against his weight, nearly toppling Roxas back again, and Roxas bites at the taut line of his throat and works the zipper down, pulling the hard length of his cock out. He gets his own pants undone, spitting wet in his palm and slicking his length. Pre-come beads at the head, and he squeezes tight, looking up to find Axel's eyes dark and pupils blown as he watches him.

He lets his head tip back, arches his back and thrusts into his fist, cock nudging at Axel's stomach and leaving smears of wetness there. Axel's hands find his hips again and grip tight there, sliding round to his back and leaving white-red fingernail scratches at the smooth slope of his lower back. "Fuck, here," he mutters, and grabs Roxas' arse, tugging him close and tight again, both their cocks trapped slick between the press of their bellies. "Ah," Roxas says, and then grinds down, thrusting against the heat of Axel's skin and Axel's cock.

His hands clench at Axel's shoulders, and Axel's hips come up to meet his, their cocks sliding against each other, wet with spit and pre-come. The seat creaks beneath them, the windows half fogged with steam and heat. Roxas' pants are too tight around his thighs, his knees, sticking with sweat. He crushes his mouth against Axel's neck and thrusts harder, the head of his cock catching in Axel's navel. Axel's teeth close over the shell of his ear, tongue flicking his piercings and then biting down hard, and Roxas loses it, coming in thick ribbons all over Axel's belly and cock.

Axel's hand squeezes in between them, rubbing Roxas' come into his skin, wrapping around his cock and stroking. Roxas leans down and licks at the tattoo again, sucking. Takes his nipple into his mouth and bites down, tugging hard. Axel hisses out something like a swear word, something like Roxas' name, and Roxas feels the thick fall of his spunk painting over his chest.

He finds Axel's hoodie again and uses it to wipe them clean, despite Axel's half-languid glare. He pulls his shirt on and does up his pants and pops the door, climbing out over Axel's lap and into the night, air still shivering with the muted music thumping out from the warehouse.

"Come on," he says, tugging at Axel's wrist. "Apparently there's a party I'm missing."


End file.
